Strung Out In Heaven's High
by drakehuntfan
Summary: What might have happened after series1 episode 8. Alex realises what she must do. PWP/GALEX/Adult material so please do not read if easily offended! Huge thanks to Kez for beta duties : This is dedicated to the Hunt's Housewives - love you all! KoB XX


**Themes: Romance, Angst, Hurt, PWP**

**Pairing: Gene Hunt/ Alex Drake**

**Rating: M for adult content, contains sexual themes**

**A/N: story follows the end of series one episode 8. Contains mild spoilers, but I'm sure you've all seen it many times! Lol! There is no plot to speak of, but it's pretty racy so if you get offended by that kind of thing, please don't read it.**

**Everyone else please R/R :) it's my very first go!**

STRUNG OUT IN HEAVEN'S HIGH

"Unbreakable, Bolly."

DCI Gene Hunt clinked his wine glass with that of his DI and knocked back the last mouthful of cheap red wine. Drake lowered her eyes, watching the swirling liquid in her own glass as she moved it around. Hunt gazed at the top of her head. He was worried about her; worried about both her involvement with Tim and Caroline Price and her emotional investment in the tragic events of earlier that day.

He couldn't understand how she had known what was coming, or exactly why she was so upset. He supposed that, during her time at CID, she had somehow become close to Caroline. The scene Alex had witnessed was a horrendous one. Hunt couldn't understand why she had refused to have anything to do with the little girl - it seemed so unlike her. He had seen her caring, maternal side before; he knew above all else, Alex Drake was determined to leave him and his team to return to her own daughter. He could understand that but he didn't have to like it.

He had to admit that when she had told him that she would be staying for longer, he had been hugely relieved. Christ knows why! Goddamnit - the woman infuriated him with her wilful obstinance, her shrieking rages and annoying habit of trying to tell him he wasn't real. But despite all this her obvious intelligence and dedication to her job had won his grudging respect. He trusted her despite her hormonal temperament; in any case, the woman was hot as hell!

Across the table, Alex Drake swirled her wine and sighed. She felt anything but unbreakable. How much more heartache could she stand? Why did it all have to be so hard? She felt a tear escaping. Anxious not to let her superior officer see her weakness, she stood up suddenly from the table, knocking over the rest of the bottle of wine. The red liquid flowed across the table and dripped onto the floor but by then Alex was halfway up the stairs to her flat.

Hunt watched her leave but did not attempt to follow. On the other side of the bar, Chris and Shaz were dancing to a pop tune and gazing dreamily into each other's eyes in the way that only young innocent lovers can. He watched them for a while. They had it all ahead of them.

Thank God the WPC had survived. Of course, that was down to his Bolly saving the day. Meanwhile he had been busy letting Chris knock seven shades of shit out of that bloody fundraiser. Even Gene Hunt felt a twinge of remorse over that one.

_His_ Bolly? "Don't be such a bloody fool!" he told himself, as he got up and walked to the bar.

"Oi, Luigi! Scotch. Here. Now!"

Upstairs, Alex could hear the muffled music from the restaurant as the party got into full swing. She kicked off her boots and walked through to the couch without turning on the light.

"Ouch!" Alex stumbled into the smoked glass coffee table. So 80's, she had thought when she first saw it. She hadn't ever noticed that one leg was shorter than the rest. It was the object propping it up against which she had just stubbed her toe. She switched on the wall lamp and bent down to see what it was. There, in the shag pile of the rug, lay a video of 'They Died With Their Boots On'.

Alex smiled in spite of herself. "So he wasn't kidding," she whispered.

The previous night she'd finally consented to have a dinner date with DCI Hunt figuring that, as it was her last night in 1981, there would be no harm in entertaining her construct's desires. Sitting there opposite him, she had seen a very different side to his usual rough and ready character. A look of longing and sadness had crept into his eyes at her attempted goodbye but he had masked it with an impromptu invitation upstairs "to watch a video". She hadn't believed it for a second, not allowing herself to indulge the briefly-imagined, erotic scenario. The next day had been too important to her, or so she had thought. It seemed like a foolish mistake now to have turned it down.

Because there was no denying it. For all his whisky swilling and punch throwing, she was drawn to him. He was the most _real,_ unreal man she had ever known.

She sat down on the couch holding the videotape. Betamax. She laughed out loud at her own mind's attention to detail. Maybe he had just wanted to watch a film after all? 'Shame,' she thought. 'The couch is easily big enough for two.' And the bed..? Her mind began to wander…

The bed! Suddenly Alex remembered her dream, vision, whatever it was. In it she had woken up next to Gene Hunt, in her bed! Was this something she was supposed to do? Was Gene Hunt holding the key to her getting home? Sam Tyler had been told he must destroy the Manc Lion in order to wake up in 2006 again. Maybe she had to do the same? A scandal in CID? An investigation? No, she couldn't – she couldn't possibly. She actually found herself caring about him. Tears came into her eyes again, more from confusion than anything else. Alex Drake felt utterly lost.

The noise from downstairs had decreased and she could hear her colleagues outside, stumbling drunkenly into the road and singing out of tune. Alex got up and stood at the window, watching Shaz and Chris swaying off into the night and Ray climbing into a taxi with one of Luigi's many nieces. DCI Hunt was nowhere to be seen, but his red Quattro was still parked under the streetlamp on the other side of the road.

In the smoky restaurant Luigi finished the last of the clearing up and turned down the lights. A few scattered candles flickered on the tables, casting shadows on the wall behind Gene Hunt who was nursing his third scotch. His heart was heavy: he knew he wanted Alex Drake so much it hurt. So many times, he had imagined taking her. But now there was something more than that. He wanted to protect her, to rescue her from whatever it was she was so scared of. He wanted her to stay with him.

"Signor Hunt..?"

Luigi snapped Gene out of his thoughts.

"I finish now, huh? I go to bed... itsa late," he shrugged.

"I … er… yeah, Luigi. Jus' gimme a minute." Gene picked up his glass and made to down the whisky inside.

Luigi stopped him. "No, no, Signor… I give you the keys, ok? You lock the door when you go… _If_ you go, hmm?" He smiled at his friend and handed him the restaurant key.

Gene looked up at him with a questioning frown.

"Look…" Luigi whispered, "Go to her… she needs you. You love her don't you?" He was almost pleading with the DCI. "You trust your instincts… _Always_, Signor Hunt. Always trust your heart."

"Oh shut up Luigi," Gene replied, not unkindly.

As Luigi turned away, Gene suddenly got to his feet. 'This must be the whisky talking,' he thought to himself. Before he knew it, he called after Luigi. "No wait, I have an idea… Can you go and get DI Drake?"

Alex was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Memories of Gene Hunt flashed over and over in her mind. He was always there for her. He'd shielded her from the horrific sight of her parents' death; he'd carried her to safety; he'd saved her from being run over _and_ from being murdered by the Cales; he'd covered her body with his when shots were being fired at Luigi's. Even in the vault, when they felt certain their time was up, he was her comfort. She knew he cared – she could see it in his eyes, along with his desire for her which was barely concealed at the best of times.

She had drifted into a light sleep when there was suddenly a soft knocking at the door of her flat. She heard Luigi's voice. "Bella? Alex… Are you awake? Signor Hunt wants, um, _needs_ you downstairs. Can you come?"

Alex heard his footsteps fading. She stood up, slipped on her boots and walked anxiously towards the door.

Downstairs, Luigi was nowhere to be seen. Alex stepped into the empty restaurant; she was met by candlelight and low music. 'Wild is the Wind' David Bowie sang as she turned towards the other end of the room. She stopped suddenly at the sight of her DCI leaning against the bar.

She swallowed hard and drank in the vision of him: his long legs and imposing frame outlined in the light cast by a candelabra on the bar. His jacket lay over the back of a chair. He stood there: his black shirt opened at the neck; his red and silver tie undone; his grey suit trousers slung on his hips and held loosely in place by a black leather belt.

He had a cigarette in his hand and, as he turned to look at her, a thin curl of smoke escaped his lips, unfurling towards the ceiling. His face was expectant; hesitant. His blue eyes grew dark with desire at the sight of her. He breathed deeply and dropped his gaze to the floor. Putting his cigarette out under the sole of one snakeskin boot, he extended an arm towards Alex without looking at her.

"Dance, Bolly?"

'Oh God yes,' Alex thought. She stepped towards him, the heels of her boots making a low clicking sound on the floor tiles. Her slim, denim-clad legs carried her closer to him; her waist and hips moved seductively. The curve of her breasts was thinly veiled in the loose fabric of her red satin top. She took his hand, mirroring his actions all those years ago (earlier that day, she corrected) when he had taken her small hand in his. He pulled her towards him until their bodies were close and they started to move slowly to the music.

"Love me, love me, love me, say you do…" The music surrounded them as they moved together. Gene slipped his other hand tight around Alex's waist and, as he did so, a low moan left her mouth. She dropped her head onto his shoulder inhaling the scent of him, feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. She realised she had never felt so safe in all her life – but it was accompanied by a growing excitement in her stomach. She ran a thumb across his palm and pushed her closed eyes into his neck whilst he swept her across the floor as effortlessly as he had carried her into the police station, both as a child and a woman.

She needed this, she told herself. Why not just give in to it? This was no time for rational thought – it was all about instincts. Hers were telling her loud and clear to give herself to him.

Hunt pulled his precious girl close to him, his head swimming from the sensation of her body next to his, her perfume filling his head. He growled as she ran a thumb over the palm of his hand; lowering his head to hers, he gently kissed her hair. All reason was gone – he'd wanted this from the moment he'd carried her into his police station.

Alex felt him speak, a low rumble vibrated in his chest as he murmured her name. "Bolly, shall I take you upstairs?"

She replied in a low broken voice, "I think you'd better..."

The door of Alex's apartment was flung open, spilling the light from the hallway on to the floor. The doorway framed the silhouette of DCI Gene Hunt holding Alex Drake in his arms.

Gene laid Alex down on the sofa more tenderly than she would have expected. He knelt beside her and cupped her face in his hand, running a thumb across her lower lip. Those lips…capable of delivering the harshest of harsh retorts and yet here so soft and inviting. Alex looked at him, her pupils wide. "Kiss me…" she whispered. Gene needed no second invitation and swiftly covered her mouth with his, savouring the taste of her. As Alex felt his tongue part her lips, she gasped at the sensation. It was so real… so very real.

Their kiss deepened and took on an urgency that told Alex there was no going back. Gene Hunt was all man and now he had just one thing on his mind. 'Well,' she told herself, '40 years of feminism isn't going to stop me from letting him. This is my head, my fantasy and my rules.' However at that moment all thoughts were lost as Gene thrust a hand roughly between her thighs. He ran his palm upwards, ever upwards, until he met his target; his fingers pushed at her jeans. Alex raised her hips to meet his hand, her own fingers now trailing through his hair and caressing the side of his face. She gently pushed his head back, breaking their kiss then leaned her head back, exposing the soft pale skin of her neck. Gene obligingly ran his mouth across her skin, down her neck and back up again to her ear, into which he growled, "I've wanted you from the moment I saw you, Bollinger Knickers…" As he spoke, the hand between Alex's legs pushed harder, signalling his intention.

Alex's breathing was heavy, the mounds of her breasts rising and falling rapidly. She had never felt this turned on before, not in real life, not even in her fantasies. She felt a strong arm slide under her back and grip her around her waist. Gene lifted her body to his mouth, his right hand still caressing her through her jeans. His mouth kissed its way down across her collarbone, eventually closing over one nipple and dampening the red fabric of her top. He looked up at her and spoke gruffly.

"I don' know about you Bols, but these clothes are gettin' right in my way!"

Alex laughed and let him pick her up until they were both standing, swaying on unsteady legs. Still kissing, their hands flew over each other's bodies: untucking shirts; undoing ties, belts and zips… At last they stood in next to nothing, both revelling in the sensation of skin on skin. Alex decided it was time to show Gene what 21st century women were made of. She pushed him to the couch. He sat down heavily, pulling his DI on top of him. His hands were immediately on her breasts, squeezing and kneading her flesh eagerly as she settled her thighs outside his, her soaking underwear clinging to her. "Christ Bolly," he groaned, "enough teasing!" Alex smiled a coy smile, the same smile she had given him when he'd tried to guess her cup size in the bar one night.

"Tell me what you want…. 'Gene'…" She indicated quotation marks with her fingers in the air annoyingly. "Tell me what you'd like me to do… Go on - say it." While she was speaking, she began to sway, rubbing herself against him.

Hunt kissed her roughly, biting her lip. "Stop -" (kiss) "waggling -" (mmm) "your bloody -" (kiss) "fingers -" (ahhhhh) "when you say -" (mmmm) "my NAME!"

Shouting the last word, he thrust a hand between Alex's legs and pulled her panties to one side. With his other hand, he freed himself from his boxer shorts and positioned himself … "Go on then Mrs Fruitcake… tell me this in't real!" He pulled her down on top of him, sliding his whole length inside her. "Ohhhhh!" Alex gasped, "Gene!"

No quotation marks this time.

Alex reached her hands up and cupped his face, staring intently into his eyes. His hands were round her hips, moving with her as she slowly raised and lowered herself, first to his tip and then down, cradling him deep within her. She inched her face closer to his, their lips almost touching, still looking in his eyes as she moved her hips faster. Her brunette curls fell into Gene's face as he leaned forward and kissed her roughly. He sat up straighter, pushing up into her and holding her body so tight to him she felt she could hardly breathe. A film of sweat formed on Alex's back, glistening slightly as the train outside threw its passing light into the room. The apartment was silent save for the irregular breathing and moaning of the two lovers. In the corner of the room the television was switched off: no signs; no messages; no clown.

Gene had had enough of letting this little madam take control. He reached out one leg and pushed the coffee table away with his foot. Without its video case prop, however, it fell right over with a bang. The noise startled Alex, who turned towards the door in alarm. Gene took advantage of this momentary lapse, slipping out of her and lifting her bodily onto the floor. He pinned her there with his weight, kissing her neck and shoulders as she wriggled beneath him. "Oh, so that's how we're playing it Gene?" she said breathlessly, "Throwing your weight around again?" She giggled with delight at the mean expression on his face. "Just you wait…" he growled back, shifting himself down until his face was level with her hips.

Realising what was coming, Alex let out a long breath and closed her eyes. "Oh… My… God..!" she moaned, feeling his rough sideburn on the inside of one thigh, followed by his hand sliding her underwear off. His tongue traced a line up to the hollow of her hipbone then he smothered her stomach in kisses.

Gene paused for a moment and looked up. The streetlight from outside was throwing Alex's body into beautiful relief. The gentle sodium glow had turned her skin pale amber, her breasts and hips casting little shadows. It was a long time since he had paid this kind of attention to a woman's body. Since his wife had left him, he'd had a string of ladies attracted by his position of power but with whom he'd been selfish and taken what he wanted. Not this one though. This was DI Drake. She may well be posh and mouthy, but she was his equal in terms of bravery and dedication - and his superior intellectually. A wealth of feeling welled up in him as he watched her; her eyes closed, mouth open. Lying there vulnerably in front of him.

He reached out and took her hands in his, intertwining their fingers and pushing their palms together. Lowering his head he closed his mouth over her, immersing himself in her warmth and scent. His tongue explored her gently and deftly, her hips rising and falling to meet his touch. Their hands gripped tightly now. Alex's breath came in fits as he licked her, the tension gathering. "Gene… I want..." she murmured. What she wanted he could only guess; the end of her request was lost in a low scream as her orgasm hit her unexpectedly. Her body writhing beneath him, Gene shifted forwards; he took her hands and placed them around his neck, cradling her face in his own hands to kiss her. Her hazel eyes gazed up at him: they were dark and she seemed barely able to focus as he pushed inside her once again. This time he was more insistent. He moved quickly in and out of her, his lips never leaving hers. Finally, he broke away to gasp her name as he shuddered and came inside her.

"Alex…" he gasped. "Stay with me..."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Alex half-smiled at him, her eyes languorous, and kissed his forehead. 'Not in the immediate future anyway it seems,' she thought to herself.

"You might just save me, y'know," Gene stated, moments later, "in spite of all your crazy schemes and hissy fits." He reached up onto the couch and pulled down the blue blanket he had used all those months ago to keep her warm when she had passed out from too much wine. Throwing it over them both, he curved his body around hers. As he gazed at her, he saw she had a puzzled expression on her face. "Save you from what?"

"Meself," he said, returning to his usual gruff manner. He put his arm tight around her and closed his eyes.

In the semi darkness, Alex looked up at the ceiling. She remembered that first drunken night and what Gene had said about the knives being out for his kind of copper. And at that moment she felt she had the answer. It was not her task save her parents, or to destroy Gene Hunt and save herself. She knew she had to save _him_, as he had saved her all those times before. He was the key to this mystery and he had a lot of work to do yet.

She placed one hand over her heart, feeling its rhythm gradually return to normal.

"I am alive," she whispered to herself. "As long as this keeps beating, I will do whatever I can to save us both."


End file.
